


sugar, you're a surprise

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Modern Era, Summer Love, Tenderness, and himbo/schemer action, ft. musing and introspection on the puzzling nature of the american-style sheet cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Balthus, Goddess bless him, is a ravenous eater. Yuri isn't even sure why he's bought him a birthday cake in the first place, or why he's letting Balthus eat the whole thing off of a baking tray in his living room.Neither of those things are easy for Yuri to take his mind, or his eyes, off of.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	sugar, you're a surprise

**Author's Note:**

> for yuri week 2020!

Yuri rarely eats cake on his birthdays. 

It’s not that he _dislikes_ it, per se. When it’s offered to him, he’ll take it, begrudgingly, and if only to fill his stomach. But he doesn’t _enjoy_ it- at least, he doesn’t enjoy it enough to buy it for himself, though he’s indulged his friends in the form of baked goods before. 

Sitting in his living room, adjacent to an emptied plastic container with a torn-off seal, Yuri realises that Balthus likely hasn’t gotten the message. 

It’s a stiflingly hot day, though not much out of the norm for mid-August. Though Yuri suspects Balthus is hardly in need of a reason to strip off, the temperature is his stated excuse for coming into Yuri’s flat stripped entirely of any upper-body covering, regardless of their previous conversations on the matter (which had all been one-sided affairs, Yuri trying his damndest to negotiate with Balthus on the issue of him coating the otherwise-prim furniture with a layer of glistening sweat). His baggy trousers have been replaced with a pair of oversized black cargo shorts- shorts that Yuri has seen him wear for a week from start to finish before- and all that’s between his feet and the purple shag of Yuri’s faux-fur rug is a pair of sandals. Which Yuri is, if he’s honest with himself, is quite thankful for. 

_Replacing that thing wouldn’t come cheap_. 

At any other time, Yuri would feel tempted to chew him out for his grievous infractions against good appearances and hygiene. But the heat draws all coherent thought from him, the blanket of its presence so severe that no complaint can be formed in his mouth before his mind diverts back to the all-pervading warmth. He simply sits, and watches Balthus plate an entire neon-purple sheet cake onto the worn surface of an old baking tray. 

“It was hard to get ‘em to make this, you know.” 

Balthus’ self-aggrandizement would, in better times, likely spark some sharp-tongued criticism from Yuri. Particularly when he’s close to _wincing_ at the cacophony of metal tools clashing against each other, no doubt the victims of Balthus’ clumsy handling and lack of kitchen skills ( _such are the conceits of being raised with wealth_ , Yuri supposes.) But he can hardly speak, pressed up as he is against the seat of his sofa, fan turned up so high that it almost hurts. He doesn’t try, either.

“I had to keep reassuring them the cake wasn’t for a kid before they’d put the knife and the muscles on it. Uh, I also asked for a wolf, but it looks more like a cat of some sort… Man, I don’t know if whoever drew this has ever seen a wolf.” 

“The staff thought you were buying the cake for a child?” 

Balthus sighs, and as far as Yuri can deduce from the slick sound that emanates from the kitchen lying just metres from him, he probably wipes the sweat from his brow, too. 

“Whew. I’m glad you’re not upset that the wolf looks bad.” 

Under his breath, Yuri groans. _Did he hear me at all?_

“I’d do it myself, but I think it’d probably be worse. When I was a kid, and I tried to draw for my little brother, I’d always end up frightening him.”

“Right. Can we go back to what I asked you?” 

Balthus snorts, as if it’s a stupid question to ask of him. 

“‘Course we can.”

He pauses, then- which Yuri intuits from the sudden ceasing of the sound of metal clashing against metal- for what feels like almost a minute, before speaking once more, entirely nonchalant.

“Uh, you might have to ask me again.”

Yuri sighs, punctuated for effect.

“The staff at- wherever you got this thing. They thought you were buying a cake for a child?”

The brass door handle obstructing Yuri’s living room and kitchen groans, its rusted mechanical parts shifting uncomfortably as Balthus does his best to pry the barrier between the two rooms open. When he walks in, after almost a minute of struggling with a door, Yuri watches the thoughtful- almost distracted- expression on his face with impatient interest. 

  
“...I guess so.” Balthus shrugs as he says it, and Yuri’s attention darts to the tray he’s balanced loosely on his left arm. Only when his shoulders sink back to their normal position does he relax, reduced to relative lack of concern about the potential of the garish thing dropping and staining his furniture.

“Be careful with that.” he sighs, craning his neck to meet Balthus’ vision. “Unless you’re already planning to buy me a new armchair.”

“C’mon, I already bought you birthday gifts.”

For a brief moment, Yuri’s attention shifts again, to the smattering of bags and boxes Balthus had introduced into the flat alongside himself. Though several of them are larger than he’d ever expect from Balthus, unless inflatable furniture is back in style, Yuri considers his doubts as to any of them being a new armchair entirely justified. 

“And this cake.” As if Yuri hasn’t already been made aware of its bemusing existence, Balthus points to where it’s tentatively nestled between his forearm and his shoulder. 

Stuck for a response, Yuri nods.

“You definitely have.” Idly, he flicks a sunlight-illuminated mote of dust away from his right hand. “Which makes me think I should have told you before that I don’t really like cake.”

The expression on Balthus’ face _drops_ , smile twisted into a frown and eyebrows suddenly furrowed. He doesn’t relax his stance, but Yuri swears he can see him hold the impromptu cake-pan a little _tighter_ to his muscled shoulder. Really, if Yuri didn’t feel just a little bad for not concealing the truth- a trademark skill of his, after all- he’s sure he’d laugh at the sudden meekness, or the sullen expression akin to that of a scolded puppy. 

“What?” The surprise in Balthus’ voice is genuine, enough that coming from anyone else’s mouth, Yuri is sure he would presume exaggeration. 

“I’ve seen you eat all sorts of sweet things. You like sweet buns almost as much as I like- well, I like plenty of stuff.” For a moment, it’s clear that the headiness of the summer head has distracted Balthus almost as profoundly as it has Yuri, his brows furrowing even deeper in an attempt to salvage his argument. “But you know what I mean!”

“That’s true. But I don’t like _all_ sweet things. And birthday cake is a little immature. Don’t you think?” 

Balthus’ expression warps into one of dumbfoundment. Equivalently, it becomes even harder for Yuri to not chuckle at the sheer _sight_ of him, shirtless, cake-grasping and looking as if he’s just seen a meteor crash to the Earth and destroy his car in front of him.

“It’s not.” Balthus’ words come out somewhere between contestation and confusion. “All sorts of people eat birthday cake.” 

“But they still thought you were getting it for a kid, right?” 

“I mean… yeah. I guess. But that was just something they asked when I told ‘em to put all the cool designs on it for you.”

A brief pause emerges between the two of them, broken only by the whirring of caged fan-blades and the mid-afternoon birdsong from outside. 

“Man. Now I have a cake that nobody wants.”

At that assertion, Yuri shakes his head, gentle. 

“I’ll take it, if it’s important to you.” His sentence breaks with the contemplative tap of his finger on his chin. “Or, I’d be happy for you to eat it yourself.” 

Balthus glances briefly down at the cake, straining his neck to do so, before looking back at Yuri.

“I don’t think I could eat the _whole_ thing. But I could eat most of it- if you'll have a slice or two.”

Though slightly perturbed by Balthus’ unlikely assertion that he _can’t_ eat the entirety of a cake, Yuri nonetheless nods, and gestures for Balthus to take a seat, cake in hand, on the beanbag which lies gracefully next to his dust-covered TV stand. 

To his contentment, Balthus unquestioningly accepts. It doesn’t take him long to almost _fling_ himself backward onto the black, silken fabric of the thing, once acquired by Constance at a car boot sale and given over to him when Hapi insisted on its departure from their shared space. Somehow, he keeps the cake balanced throughout the unnecessary display of flourish, a feat that prompts him to grin at Yuri once he settles down into a more comfortable position.

“It’s your birthday.” Balthus chuckles, his deep voice filled with mirth. “You don’t have to worry so much. Not today.”

“I’d worry less if you stopped flinging that thing around.” Yuri retorts. Balthus hardly seems to notice, however, already pulling two forks from the large pockets where Yuri guesses he’d chosen to store them earlier. He places one gently on Yuri’s right thigh, exposed by his own pyjama shorts, before he wields the other in his own broad hand. 

Yuri looks down, briefly, at the single piece of cutlery. 

“So, no knife?” 

Self-assured, Balthus shakes his head. 

“It’s just cake. Anyway, knives are the coward’s way out.”

As if to demonstrate his point, Balthus digs the fork he’s chosen for himself deep into the cake, with such force that the purple icing is nearly flung onto the furniture which surrounds him. He’s grinning the whole while, salivating with an almost childlike joy that Yuri can’t help but envy. Even when Yuri pinches him, albeit gently, on the arm, his happiness remains undiluted- though he does let out an exaggerated yelp. 

  
“You’re going to make a mess.” Yuri scolds him, though his tongue is hardly as sharp as the two of them know it can be. “Furniture stains are a terrible birthday gift.” 

“ _Fine_.” 

Teasingly, Balthus readjusts himself into a much less relaxed seating position, stance prim and proper. Once a glance over at Yuri’s face- still decidedly unimpressed- confirms that he’s watching the display he’s putting on, he spears the cake with the fork once again. With excruciating slowness, Balthus lifts a mouthful of the (apparently, chocolate-flavoured) cake into his mouth, maintaining all the while a meticulous composure. 

All as Yuri watches him, pouting the entire time. 

“I don’t eat like that.” grumbles Yuri, still refusing to avert his gaze. “I just don’t like messes. It’s a waste of my money to buy new furniture.” 

Another forkful of cake ends up in Balthus’ mouth by the time Yuri finishes speaking, though Balthus doesn’t wait to finish it before replying. 

“I’m just doin’ what you asked me to do, pal.”

Yuri watches even closer as he speaks; almost ignores him in favour of searching for any crumbs spilling from his mouth as he does. While he resolves himself to not scold Balthus like he’s his mother- not for something like speaking while eating- he’s hardly amenable to the idea of him leaving a mess with his mouth, either. Something which Balthus has never been good at avoiding. 

He’s clean, though- surprisingly so- at least for a while. Indeed, when the first smear of cake-carnage ends up spread somewhere other than the inside of his mouth, it’s only on the top of his lip. And when Yuri’s vision drifts to where a glob of purple icing lies smeared on Balthus’ top lip, looking away from the sight becomes a trial much quicker than he’d like. 

_There’s no appeal in the mess_ , he thinks, though the cake looks much more edible than those Yuri has previously obtained from supermarket counters. Rather, his interest lies with Balthus. Balthus, who Yuri has never seen shave, but who dons a fine layer of dark hair on his upper lip, inconspicuous so long as it’s _noticed_. Which intrigues Yuri- as does the youthfulness of his skin. Despite being a few years older than him, Balthus’ surface-level agelessness threatens to stun Yuri. There are no traces of product on his skin, and any scent is drowned out by that of sugar-frosting and wood-scent candles. But Yuri is sure he does something- and when it comes to _Balthus_ , he can’t help finding that endearing. 

“You gotta try this, boss.”

_Ah_.

Reality strikes when Balthus speaks again, voice hoarse and muffled from the food he’s still putting back. Yuri leans backwards, and feigns ignorance, as if he would never even _consider_ remarking on Balthus’ surprising handsomeness. Instead, his eyes droop downwards, casting a lazy glare towards the fast-depleting tray. 

“There’ll be nothing left.” 

Balthus’ chewing pauses, if only for a brief moment. 

“I can save some.” he mumbles, a few crumbs spilling from his mouth alongside his words. Yuri groans, albeit under his breath, and reminds himself to hoover later on. 

“No need.” Truthfully, Yuri does kind of want to try the cake. If for no other reason than testing whether mass-produced sheet cakes really _have_ gotten better since he was a child, or whether he’s only delusionally hungry as a result of his light breakfast. But now he’s caught sight of Balthus’ finer features, he feels an inclination to allow the other man his pleasures rise in his stomach- though he can’t say it’s an inclination he’s happy to have. “You seem like you’re enjoying it.”

Another forkful of cake ends up scooped into Balthus’ mouth before he even thinks of responding. 

“Sure am. I’m fucking _hungry,_ boss.” 

“Did Hapi and Constance not leave you enough food to eat over their little holiday?” 

Balthus’ ravenous chewing pauses, and he glances upwards.

“Since when were they letting me eat their food?” 

“I never said they were.” 

“Well, they’re not.” Undeterred by the conversation, Balthus’ mouth is filled again with the cake- at the sight of it, Yuri glances down, and finds the tray almost half-gone. “Sure, I live in their basement, but that’s it. I “eat too much”, apparently.”

_I have no reason to doubt that,_ Yuri ponders, idle. 

“In that case, consider me letting you eat my birthday cake an act of charity. Or- mostly charity.” 

Somewhere between his incredulousness and his amusement at the sheer _presence_ of Balthus, an _idea_ bubbles in Yuri’s mind. The more he looks at Balthus, the harder it becomes to resist looking straight at the neon smear of crumb-laced icing decorating his top lip. If he’s honest with himself, Yuri considers it almost immodest for him to look like that and remain unaccountable. Perhaps in public, with the eyes of the people bearing down upon them, he’d chide Balthus for looking so debauchedly careless. But, trapped in the throes of his enjoyment, there’s something innocuously handsome about the giddy carelessness that Yuri can’t help finding rather provocative. 

That, and in the embrace of the heat that surrounds them, there’s little chance Balthus will escape the icing melting off of him and falling onto his chest. 

_Which, maybe- well. That’s going a little too fast_. 

Balthus’ head turns upwards once more, facing Yuri’s inquisitive gaze. 

“You want something from me, then?” 

“Nothing major. Consider it another birthday present.”

With his sole unoccupied hand, Balthus gestures questioningly to the small stack of poorly-wrapped gifts left in the corner. Gifts that Yuri appreciates, of course, but doesn’t expect to be much more than the cheap novelties Balthus can afford. 

  
“Already got you your birthday presents. Right there!” 

“I know that.” Yuri quips. “It’s something else.”

“C’mon, boss. You know that I’m flat broke. And I’m only making so much cat-sitting for the girls when they’re on their weekend dates, so-”

Yuri interrupts, curt, with a click of his teeth.

“You don’t have to pay for it.”

Hearing that, Balthus’ expression becomes nothing short of quizzical. Yuri doesn’t doubt he’s trying to make sense of what he might want- unaware of the smear of icing as he is, he doubts he’ll figure it out. 

Before he can prompt him to ask for his indulgence, Balthus pipes up. 

“Are you gonna stare at my muscles again? Since it’s your birthday, I can let you do that. It’s no problem.”

“...Maybe later.” As often as Balthus proposes doing so, it surprises Yuri just how amenable he’s starting to feel towards the prospect. “But not now. I have another idea.”

“Yeah?” 

Tender and slow, like he’s charming a frightened rabbit towards him, Yuri leans forward. When Balthus doesn’t draw away from the sudden proximity, he takes his chance, and places his forefinger gently on the tip of Balthus’ nose. It’s sweat-slick, owing to the perpetual heat, but it doesn’t bother Yuri. He’s more focused on the somehow-adorable little _squeak_ Balthus lets out when he’s touched, partnered with the pert smile that spreads underneath it. 

“You have something on your lips.” 

“Uh-huh.”

Yuri smiles, too. It’s the inviting one he’s used to putting on in front of others- but for once, it’s sincere.

  
“Might I remove it with my own?” 

Again, Balthus’ brows furrow. Yuri considers moving backwards, cursing himself for being too forward, but he doesn’t manage to speak before Balthus pipes up again. 

  
“Your own what?” 

“...Lips.”

His expression becomes only more perplexed, and Yuri sighs. 

“I’m asking for a kiss.”

“Oh.”

_Is that a yes, or-_

“Hell yeah, we can kiss! I was wondering when you were gonna ask, actually.” 

“What?” 

“I dunno.” Balthus begins. “I figured you wanted to. After all, you kept looking at me like that. At my face, and stuff.”

Internally, Yuri can’t help but wince- he can hardly consider himself a fan of having his true intentions intuited by someone generally rather trusting. Still, with no reason to resist- not any more- he puckers up. 

“Right. And you’re ready?” 

A smirk overtakes Balthus’ expression, somehow brighter than the sun which still shines through the thin curtains of Yuri’s flat. 

“Always.” 

Despite his practice, Yuri can’t help the nerves which rise in his stomach as he leans forward. 

Pressing their lips together is, initially, a shaky thing, tentative in its execution. But it takes only a moment for a rhythm to form, and for their gentle movements to become intuitive and concrete. The softness of Balthus’ lips surprises Yuri- though after everything, he’s not sure it should. His brusqueness does little to make the affair unpleasant, with his movements gentle yet enthusiastic throughout, and Yuri finds the quick, purposeful peck turning quickly into a sustained, pleasurable thing. 

It’s when they part that Yuri realizes that he hasn’t gotten the icing off of Balthus’ top lip. Instead, it’s smeared over his own, a streak of purple decorating him with little grace or practice. The same goes for Balthus, who’s still looking at Yuri, expression thoroughly dumbstruck and stained with the rich, artificial glamour of the sweet substance.

Yuri supposes it might be the closest he’ll ever get to Balthus letting him work him over with his palette. But it’s a thought that gets lost in the heady shapelessness of his post-kiss mind, drowned out by the loverly affection _Balthus_ had given him.

“...I don’t think that worked, Yuri.” 

Hearing his name- not his real one, but still- come from Balthus’ mouth is a confounding, confronting thing. But Yuri finds he doesn’t entirely mind Balthus using it- if anything, he deserves to use it.

“My mouth is a mess now. Yours is too.”

Briefly, almost imperceptibly, Yuri’s tongue darts out to taste the remnants of thick icing plastered on his upper lip. 

It’s _richer_ than he once knew it to be, and he doesn’t think he’d mind going back for more. 

“Drat.” he mumbles, playing coy. “It didn’t.” 

“Sorry. It was nice, though.”

A quick snort burst from inside of Yuri’s chest. It stemmed from the satisfaction of watching his target walk unknowingly into the place he needed them to be, and from the knowledge that everything was going to work out in his favour. 

“We should try again.” 

For a brief moment, Balthus’ expression was as quizzical as it had been earlier. His countenance was quick to change, however, as Yuri leaned forward once more, hands drifting from their places at his side to the rough comfort of Balthus’ broad shoulders. 

An understanding entered his mind, then, and with his sole unoccupied hand, he returned the gentle contact with a single hand poised on Yuri’s bird-bone hip. 

“That’s my boss. We never give in, do we?” 

“We certainly don’t.”

That time, it was Balthus who rose to the occasion, drawing himself closer to Yuri without a hint of trepidation. His movement was eager, but the intimacy between them was sparked by the sincerity of the closeness he forged between them. Foreheads pressed together, uncaring of the sweat which dampened and slicked their brows, Yuri was sure he had found a birthday present a thousand times more worthwhile than any material good. Indeed, as Balthus opened his mouth to the kiss, he responds with nothing less than unadulterated willingness, laced with a careless enjoyment of the tenderness which Yuri had long believed was solely a part of his past.

On Balthus’ tongue, he tastes the satisfying sweetness of birthday cake, and wanted for little else but to feel such simple pleasure for as long as he could.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading!! i love these two and i hope i've done them justice
> 
> as for why hapi/constance aren't at yuri's birthday: he insisted that they go on their break, and not worry abt him. yuri can be so self-sacrificing, i don't think he'd want a big deal made of his birthday ;_;
> 
> also this is one of my only fics that isn't named after a song title i think? i was listening to anime ops and christian hymns for much of writing this so. not much to go on there.
> 
> my twitter is @meowcosm if you wanna read more of my stuff! kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
